Waiting for the Night
by WolfGirl1700
Summary: Life is good for the Ben, Hi, Shelton and Tory. But they're still Virals - and they must still keep their flares secret. When Cooper, Tory's beloved wolfdog, vanishes from Loggerhead Island, all four Virals must work together to find him. But when Cooper's wherabouts are discovered - everything, the dog, their secret, and their lives - could be at risk. Enjoy! :
1. Chapter 1

_**SNAP.**_

I took off sailing across the dunes. Warm, sun-bleached sand chafed between my toes; a sweetly salty breeze rolled off the sea, ruffling my hair and rushing over the rippling beach with gentle fingers that swept the hills flat and reformed them as easily as clay. The sky glowed periwinkle over my head, so blue and perfect it was almost artificial. The wind raced alongside me as I ran.

"Hey, Tor! Look!"

I slackened my speed, panting as I jogged up to a pudgy sophomore – Hi – standing at the very edge of the waterline, hand cupped over his forehead to shield his eyes as he pointed out over the sea. The ocean was as energetic as we were – waves rose, built, and threw themselves onto the beach, sending clouds of cool, salty spray into the air and onto the sugary white sand. I followed his keen, flare-enhanced gaze to a wave about a quarter-mile from where we were standing. Protruding from the rich turquoise surf was a gray, water-slicked nose, followed by a sleek silver body, arching dorsal fin, and a strong, smooth fluke that rhythmically beat the ocean surface. Bottlenose dolphins – a pod, I realized, as more of the magnificent creatures broke into visibility from the cresting wave. A couple of them leaped from beneath the surface, curved bodies forming graceful arcs, before flopping back into the water with a tremendous splash. Shelton – chocolate skin beaded with sweat – and Ben – his muscular arms crossed over the chest of his plain black shirt – joined Hi and I to watch the unfolding spectacle.

Fins skimmed the surface as the eccentric group sped toward shore. As they neared us, our flare vision sharpened the view to spectacular clarity – I could see every drop of saltwater as it glittered on their impossibly smooth skin; could gaze into their small, dark, but gloriously intelligent eyes; could listen with ease to the clicks, chatters, and whistles they exchanged, trying to decipher the bits and pieces of their mesmerizing language. Calves stuck close to the sides of their attentive mothers; pillars of water erupted from blowholes as they exchanged a stale breath of air for a fresh one.

I grinned as the bottlenoses went on the hunt. They churned the seabed with their tails, "enclosing" the fish that darted and swirled in the shallows in a muddy ring, and waited for their clever trickery to take effect. Their prey – deceived into believing the mud is a solid barrier- lunged skyward for escape, only to plummet into the waiting, gaping mouths of the hungry dolphins, thrilled at their success. Hi chuckled as a young calf, not quite an expert on the technique, peered around in confusion as a silvery fish bounced off his melon-shaped head and into the water to freedom.

Then, as quickly as they'd come, the now full-bellied dolphins turned from the shore, plunged beneath the surface, and swam out toward the open sea, their dorsal fins occasionally slicing into sight, their flukes swishing fluidly in and out of the water as it churned in early anticipation of a new wave.

The strong emotions my flare demanded of me slowly dissolved into nonexistence, and I felt the bright gold fade gradually from my eyes. I blinked and rubbed them, squinting and trying to see the dolphins as they headed lazily for the horizon, but without the aid of my wolflike senses they were no more than moving blurs in the far distance. "I lost my flare," I said aloud, seating myself on the beach and splashing my bare feet in the rising tide.

"Me too," Shelton sighed, followed by murmurs of agreement from Ben and Hi, whose eyes were also empty of saffron fire. They plopped onto the sand beside me.

Way off from where we were sitting, beyond even the vanishing dolphins, the sun was just beginning to descend from its midday peak, its white-hot blaze starting to soften into a soft, warm peach. Light shimmered and danced on the ocean – I didn't need flare vision to see its beauty, the pink, yellow, and orange that mingled and swirled over the surface, like a watercolor that was constantly moving, constantly changing as the sun sank toward where it would meet the sea again. I glanced at my watch. 5:30. I copied Shelton's sigh, stretching out on the beach and resting my chin on my folded hands.

Wait. 5:30!

"Shoot!" I cried aloud, leaping to my feet like the ground was electric. I checked my watch again, yanking my phone free of my pocket to check the times. Both calmly reported the same digits. Five. Three. Zero.

"What's up, Tory?" Hi was reclining against a dune, hands behind his head, legs crossed like a primadonna sitting with a magazine. "Is it your daddy dearest?"

"Worse," I moaned. "I've got a cotillion event at 7:30. I'm supposed to be home…" I rummaged through my jumbled thoughts before correcting myself. "…_was _supposed to be home at 5:15 so Whitney would have plenty of time to 'primp me for the party.'"

"Um…" Ben was standing now, too, shuffling his sandal-clad feet in the sand. "Want me to drive you home? In _Sewee, _I mean," he added hurriedly. "So you're not later than you already are."

Moment of awkward silence. Then, "Sure. Thanks. Kit's going to kill me if I don't get home, like, now. And Whitney is probably freaking out already."

Ben nodded curtly – man of many words, that one – and jogged toward his beloved runabout, bobbing easily with the rise and retreat of the gentle tide. He swung over the side and headed for the controls, me standing in silence by the rail and waving for the other Virals to join us. It wasn't like _they _had a way home once Ben and _Sewee _were gone.

Hi hurried – or did was his definition of hurrying was, a rather slow, ponderous gait that simply had more suspension than his normal, plodding walk – toward us, Shelton trying to drag him along as Ben swiftly revved the motor and prepared to steer us clear of the shore. Hi hauled himself over the edge with Shelton's aid and together, finally a pack, we puttered out into open water and away from Loggerhead Island and the Dead Cat beach – the place I would much, _much _rather be.

Ten minutes later, _Sewee _nosed up to the dock, bow bumping against a post and jolting us all in our sitting and standing positions. I stumbled and braced myself against the rail, laughing quietly under my breath as Ben shot us all a look, a mix of _don't you dare say a word _and _sorry. _His driving needed as much help as his flaring. Not that he'd ever admit it.

I rushed toward the rail, hurling a quick thank you to Ben as I went. Hi helped to boost me over the edge and I dropped to the sand, bending my knees to soften the fall and taking off down the path that led to the LIRI employee townhouses. A quick glance at my watch – 5:42 – lengthened my stride. I didn't even pause for breath as I blasted through the front door, almost blowing past Kit before I skidded to a halt, remembering what I was running for.

"I'," I got out, managing to spit the entire sentence out in one breath. "I'm really…"

"Stop." Kit placed two hands on my shoulder and shook me gently. "_Breathe._"

I exhaled heavily. "That's it," he teased. "You draw air _into _your lungs, and then you let it all out. In and out."

He waited patiently while I went to sink, threw back a few swigs of water from plastic cup, and regained my breath. "I'm so sorry," I repeated. "I was out at the Dead Cat with Coop and the guys…" Coop. _Where was the wolfdog? _The thought made my heartbeat race with alarm. I made a mental note to text Ben, Hi, and Shelton once I got upstairs. As in, the second my feet hit the floor.

"…and we totally lost track of time," I continued, my voice even. "I'm really sorry."

"No prob, kiddo," Kit said soothingly. "Whitney occupied herself picking out your entire outfit."

"Entire… outfit?" I squeaked. "Dad, I can handle that on my…"

"Tory, darling!" Whitney sauntered into the room, looking very much like a life-size Barbie doll with flawless blond hair, sparkling eyes expertly rimmed with black-brown eyeliner, lashes that hung dark and heavy with mascara, a pink-lipsticked mouth, a thick, sugarcoated southern drawl and a one-hundred-percent designer wardrobe that would take a decade of Kit's work to even begin to afford. Not that I wanted any of it.

In short, Whitney Rose Dubois was my complete, polar, night-and-day opposite.

She engulfed me in a hug and I mouthed _kill me, just kill me now _at the ceiling, well aware that, unfortunately, the fluorescent lightbulbs did not take pity on me. She stood back to survey my appearance; the longer she stared, the more her blinding white smile began to fade, replaced by the tight-lipped pout of disdain, disgust, and disappointment that she usually wore when I came back from an outing with the boys at the beach. Wet sand was caked on my clothes and shoes; I could feel a smear of dirt over my left eyebrow, and my less-than-straight to begin with hair had been mussed beyond what Kit's southern belle girlfriend could accept.

"Come on, Tory, dear," she chirped, a picture of sickening enthusiasm anyway as she grabbed my hand and led me upstairs like a dog on a leash. That thought summoned the possibility of Coop, alone on the island. _But he's not alone, _I reminded myself. _Whisper and the rest of the pack are there._ That made me feel a little better. "We've got to get you cleaned up and changed!"

I would've gagged if I could, but I was suffocating in the cloud of expensive perfume that hung thickly around the woman, and I was holding my breath, doing my very best not to cough. If I'd been flaring the stench of roses, lavender, citrus, strawberry, sugar, and every other sweet thing that ever existed would've strangled me before I got halfway up the stairs.

Whitney hurried me down the hall, shoved me into my bathroom, ordered me to "shower" and "not come out until I'm spotless." In her dreams. Channeling my anger into the movement, I jerked on the faucet, switched on the hot water and stood, teeth gritted in frustration, until steam curled around me like fog. I stepped reluctantly beneath the pressurized spray and used the mildest soap I owned to gently scrub the sand and dirt from my pale skin, lather up and rinse my fiery red hair, and shave my legs clean of any stubble. I rubbed myself dry with a fluffy, mocha-colored towel and emerged in an aqua robe Kit had gotten me as a random "just because" present.

"No, no, no," Whitney cried, ushering me back out of the bedroom before I could get a glimpse of what monstrosity of a dress she'd laid out for me this time. "Blow dry your hair and _then _you can come in." she beamed. "You're going positively _love _the dress choices, Tory!" Her tone was positively gushing. Ugh.

I slammed the door and turned the blow dryer on my impossible scarlet mane, intentionally setting it on low so it would take longer. But unfortunately, it didn't take long for it to dry, and I picked the knots with a comb, brushed it smooth and silky, and tied it back before exiting the bathroom for the second time.

"Much better," Whitney sang. She flung open my bedroom door and gestured to three dresses, hung on my dresser, with a dramatic flourish. "Ta-da!"

I gaped at the possibilities, my mind struggling to decide which was worse. The first option was a dark, rich fuchsia – ugh, _pink _– with soft, natural ruffles through the skirt, a tight, body-hugging waistline, and no straps. Joy.

Choice number two was deep hunter green, sleeveless with two straps that knotted together behind my neck. A pale green ribbon looped around the waist and could be bound at the front or side as a bow. The skirt was long and flowing; when worn it would probably brush the floor, very elegant and also very _not me. _

Number three – a dark, admittedly beautiful royal purple number, strapless; a thin black belt encircled the waistline, latched by a dainty silver buckle. The skirt would cling slightly closer to the body than the others and flared slightly as it cut off just below the knees. Thin curlicues of silver laced up from the hem; nothing too dramatic, just a little something to catch the light and glitter.

I hated them all. But since I _had _to choose, I decided third time's a charm. The last possibility – the violet gown with the belt – was dubbed the winner, and Whitney whipped out her jewelry case, sifting through her seemingly endless supply of rich, luxurious accessories that I would prefer to never see, let alone wear. She withdrew a delicate silver chain, weighted by an opal pendant that boasted a lovely swirl of pale green and the same purple as the dress. My ears weren't pierced, much to Whitney's dismay: "But earrings are so ladylike," she'd whined to Kit, but lucky for me, he'd drawn the line at going to get that issue "fixed."

She also plucked out a simple bracelet to match.

Then shoes. She found a pair of silver-white heels, glittering with rhinestones, but I adamantly vetoed the decision in not-quite-favor of a pair of black flats. If I was forced to sacrifice my evening, I wasn't going to spend it tottering around in shoes I could barely walk in, let alone _dance._

For the first time that night, she left me alone so I could change into the dress without her breathing down my neck. I grumbled under my breath as I stepped into the swath of dark lilac fabric, hiked it up and zipped it, with some effort, up my back. I looked into the mirror; smoothed it out where it pinched. Then I slid into the flats; wiggled my toes around. After I clasped the necklace around my throat, lazily tugged the bracelet up over my hand and onto my wrist, and checked my hair in the mirror, I swiped my phone off my nightstand and powered it on. A little red bubble with a one in it popped up at the corner of my text symbol, and I tapped into the app, scrolling through names and text inboxes until came to the one with a blue "unread" circle. Jason Taylor. Ugh. I scanned the message. _Pick you up seven? ;)_

The very thought of sharing a car with Jason made me groan. I hated to do it, but… I opened up the phone keyboard, typed in four – my speed-dial for Ben, three was Shelton, two was Hi and one was Kit – and tapped call. It rang one, twice, three times before rolling into his voicemail box, with a default message, of course. I left a rapid-fire run-on sentence – "Hi this is Tory please call me back bye" – and hung up, pausing exactly five seconds before punching the four back in and redialing. This time, after two rings, a husky voice answered on the other end of the line.

"Hello?" Grunted and slightly irritated.

"Ben!" I couldn't keep the relief from my voice. "Um…"

"What is it, Tory?" I could hear the slosh of water in the background. Good, he was with _Sewee. _Maybe I was about to get lucky.

"Um, Jason just texted me asking when to pick me up."

"So?" Cold and accusing. I swallowed.

"And I really don't want to ride with him, so I was wondering if you would… drive me? I mean, you know, just a favor, I mean, I could pay you back, of course…" I was rambling and I knew it, but I was practically on my knees and begging here. I couldn't take rejection as an answer.

"Yeah, sure. What time?"

I pressed my phone to my chest and let out a long breath of relief before raising it back to my ear. "Seven, at the Charleston dock? Thank you so much, really. Thanks."

"It's no problem." His voice was gruff. "See you then." And then he hung up.

"But he said yes," I murmured. _Thank goodness._

"Tory, darling," Whitney called, "Are you done putting everything on, sweetie?"

"Yes," I answered. "You can come in." _Please don't._

Of course she didn't pay attention to my mental message. She bounded inside, looked at me from head to toe, and immediately beamed, throwing her arms around me in a cautious hug so she didn't rumple her precious dress. "You look absolutely _gorgeous,_ honey," she squealed. "Come, we _must _show your daddy." I managed to snatch my phone before she herded me back down the corridor, down the steps, and into the kitchen, where Kit was waiting, looking totally, utterly bored. He brightened at the sight of me, decked in my purple gown and silver jewelry. "You look wonderful, sweetie." There was no sugarcoat or falseness to his words; they just held the sweet, simple warmth of a father complimenting his daughter. However much I hated the situation I couldn't help but feel a swell of pride at Kit's praise, something Whitney's words never sparked in me.

"Thank you." Short and sweet. I hoped he could feel the emotion those two words conveyed.

"Go on." He drew me into a hug. "Try to enjoy yourself," he whispered in my ear, his words muffled by my hair. I nodded reluctant agreement.

"Wait, honey!" Whitney cried as I hurried to run out the door with my purse and phone in hand. "Isn't Mr. Taylor coming to pick you up?"

"No," I tossed over my shoulder, almost grinning as I announced the second half of my decision, but Kit somehow beat me to it. "No, Ben's taking her." _How did he know?_

"One of those _wild _boys from the beach?" Whitney recoiled, hand over her heart, and for a second I wondered if she'd have a heart attack, and whether or not I'd have to attend the funeral. But Kit slung an arm around her and was patting her back as I exited, the last words I heard from Whitney being "Wild… too wild for such a pretty girl like her."

I ignored her as I raced toward the docks, thoughts about Kit whirling through my mind as I ran, not wanting to keep Ben waiting if he was there. _How did he know? Did he overhear? _And even more startling, _were Ben and Kit working together on this?_

I approached the docks and scanned for _Sewee, _but she wasn't tied there and I apprehensively unlocked my phone, relieved when the clock only read 6:53. He wasn't late; I was early.

So I stood, waiting, pacing up and down the wooden planks as I awaited my chauffer's arrival, occasionally pondering the idea that he wasn't coming at all. But at 6:59, Ben's beloved roundabout motored up to shore, Blue letting the engine idle as he sat back and waited for me to board. "Thank you so much, I-"

He cut me off. "I told you already. It isn't a problem." He helped me over the rail – I could swear he chuckled a little at the difficulty of hoisting the soft purple skirt over the edge without tearing it – and we both stood for a second, taking a breath.

"You look really nice," Ben breathed. He'd said that to me once before – when he'd previously taken to a debutante event – but then it had been solemn, curt, merely a polite comment to give when he took a girl to someplace like that. But this time he seemed to really mean it – just like Kit, there was warmth behind his words, but it wasn't like my father's tone. It was more… pleasantly surprised, happier, admiring. And, also unlike Kit, it made my heartbeat take off and out the window. _Why? _I wondered, but my subconscious needled at me with the answer. _Because you _like _him! You've liked him forever!_

Did I? Did I like Benjamin Blue? Watching him as he piloted _Sewee, _skin bronze in the moonlight, dark brown-black eyes sparkling, raven hair tousled gently by the wind, I could certainly believe it – and nobody could blame me. I unconsciously shifted closer to him and he glanced at me but said nothing.

The event was being hosted at a yacht club, and I was almost sorry when we pulled up to the dock. Ben and I had chatted softly along the way – averting the subject of the virus in case anyone else heard us – and I'd rather enjoyed it, and could tell from his warmed expression that he had, too, and my stomach gave an involuntary flutter. _Why was this suddenly popping up now?_

"Have fun," he told me as I disembarked, grabbed my purse and waved goodbye. I stood – watching – until he motored out of sight. Then I turned and, with a bleak feeling of dread, headed into the club.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Traitor

**Before I start, I wanted to thank everybody who set up alerts, reviewed, favorited, all that fantastic stuff! You guys are amazing, thanks for following the story, and I hope you like the second chapter as much I loved writing it!**

**Before I start: some of you are going to want to kill me for the turnout of this chapter, but I hope you love it anyway! Don't worry, the cliffhanger's going to be resolved soon. (She may seem like a traitor now but things will get better, promise)**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Virals. If I did, I'd be the happiest girl alive, but I don't, which means I'm not. I'm still pretty peppy though. :D**

**And so, on to the story!**

One glance around the ballroom- gorgeous as always, this time with a stunning gold-and-silver theme – was enough to send my senses blasting into hyperdrive. The Tripod was standing in their own isolated little corner, giggling and snickering amongst themselves; Jason was leaning against an intricately carved banister, his handsome face brightened at the sight of me. But after him, one by one hostile faces from around the lavishly decorated ballroom turned and scorched me under their fiery glares. Every inch of me longed to run, dig a hole, and hide in it. Forever.

I turned so I could conceal the inevitable.

_**SNAP.**_

I rummaged frantically through my purse in search of sunglasses, practically shoving them onto my face to hide the golden glimmer of my eyes. I scoured my mind for excuses.

I went to the eye doctor today. He put some sort of drops in.

The lights are too bright.

They're prescription. More stylish than wearing my regular glasses everywhere (total lie. 20/20 over here)!

Ugh! None of them made sense. I'd have to wing it.

Jason strolled up to me, sparkling cobalt eyes scanning me from head to toe, admiration starting to shine in his enthusiastic gaze. "Wow, Tor."

"What?" It came out harsher, more intense, than I meant it to. "Is there something _wrong?_" I was overreacting. Oh well.

"Nothing's wrong. You just look… amazing, Tory."

Despite myself, I blushed, scolding myself at the thought of crimson heating my pale, freckled cheeks. "Thank you." Feeling the need to say something nice, I complimented him in return. "You look nice, too."

"What, this old thing?" he grinned, pretending to brush dirt from the shoulders of his midnight black tux, probably imported from Europe judging by the modern, clean cut and custom-tailored fit. He leaned in. "Don't tell anyone, but it's my dad's."

"Well, we can't have _that _secret getting out, can we?" I giggled before I could stop myself. _What are you _doing? I demanded of myself. Flirting with _Jason Taylor? _Was I _looking _to get pummeled by Ben?

Whoa, whoa, whoa. How did _Ben _even get into the equation? I mentally slapped myself, regained my composure, and beamed at Jason, who seemed thrilled as he returned the smile. _I can like, or dance with, whoever I want to. _"So," I said slyly, "Now that all our secrets are out…" I almost choked on how ironic my words were.

"…shall we dance?" Jason finished, offering me a graciously extended arm.

"I thought you'd never ask." I wound my arm through his. I'd graduated to mentally punching myself.

_**SNUP.**_

Much to my delight, the flare died out as Jason led me to the center of the ornate granite floor, and I admired the flecks of quartz glinting among the glossy black. "Wait," I told him, untangling my arm to remove my sunglasses and stuff them into my bag. I tossed it in the vague direction of the stairwell and settled into dance position, Jason's hand resting on my hip, mine resting on his shoulder. As if on cue, the music launched into a lively foxtrot – did _that _dance bring back memories – and I followed the steps with ease, twirling out, curling back in, half-expecting Chance Claybourne to sweep by like he had the last time I danced with Jason. But I never lost my partner, and the second song started before we could even pause for breath.

"You're a great dancer," he murmured as the beat escalated. I could see Madison, Courtney, and Ashley all whirling across the floor with their own partners, their movements silky smooth and effortless as their designer dresses fluttered like butterfly wings with each twirl. I spun out from Jason's arms and curled back in with a finish flourish as the soon ended for a break.

"I don't know about you, but I'm starved," Jason groaned, heading for the tables heaped high with food. He grabbed a plate and was filling it before I could even cross the floor.

"Of course you are," I quipped. I mentally knocked myself out. _Stop leading him on! _But the longer we danced, the more I wondered – was I really leading him at all? Even if I was I couldn't bring myself to break the truth to him, not when we were both – against all odds – having fun.

The music restarted; but this time, the quick step of the foxtrot was replaced by a smooth, easy song – one of my favorites from the musical Wicked – and the couples paired up and returned to the floor for the first genuine slow dance of the evening. Some were skipping out in favor of the lush buffet.

"Come on, Tor," Jason said softly, gently grasping my hand and trying to tug me back to the floor. "I know slow-dancing's your secret hobby."

I laughed. "And I know eating's yours."

"Thought it's not that secret," we chorused, chuckling at his expense.

"But seriously, come on. What do you say?"

I poked out my tongue. "Fine."

I let him drag me back out. The lyrics of the song danced through my mind, and as we fell back into position, I sang them softly, tone-deafness forgotten. "I've heard it said…" my voice seemed impossibly loud and I strained to soften it. "That people come into our lives…" Jason simply gazed into my eyes and I smiled as the words softly left my lips and breathed into the silence. "For a reason, bringing something we must learn…" His hands fell to my hips, where they were supposed to be, and my arms rose on their own to drape around his neck. We swayed gently to the music; I kept singing, somehow landing the notes, all too aware of Jason's warm gaze locked on me, blue eyes glimmering with captivation. Time seemed to slow around us; I knew Madison was undoubtedly eyeing us – _me – _with envy. Slowly, murmurs spread through the room, and the other dancers stopped, eyes falling to us as I kept singing, kept whispering the words as if under a trance. Jason's stare was becoming mesmerizing and I struggled not to get lost in it, determined not to stumble over the last lyrics. "Who can…" I braced myself for humiliation; the next note was difficult for a pro soprano, let alone me. "Say…" my voice swelled to the challenge, and I heard the collective sigh as the sweet note echoed in the soaring dome of the ceiling. "If I've been changed for the better, but…" I smiled softly as I sang, thinking of Hi, Ben, and Shelton, of Cooper and Mom and Kit. I closed my eyes and sang, "Because I knew you…" Surprisingly, someone else in the audience's voice rose to kindly sing the echo. "Because I knew you…" And then I took a breath, gazed into Jason's face, and sang the last beautiful words of the song. "I have been changed… For good."

As soon as the last gorgeous traces of my voice faded into silence, Jason's face dipped to mine, and I tipped my chin up close the distance. Our lips met – thoughts spiraled out of control in my mine, things resembling _oh crap _and _traitor _– but in that moment I couldn't have cared less. I heard Madison's indignant squeak of outrage; Ashley comforting her, and then… a sharp intake of breath, an exhale of resignation. The slightest creak of somebody leaning against a railing.

"Well. What a lovely finale."

I broke away from the kiss, eyes widening in disbelief as the whole room swiveled to see who had spoken. But I already knew.

The one meeting our stare was none other than Ben Blue.

**Well! Wasn't that a crazy chapter! Please REVIEW – I will write faster, I promise! And by the way, I have invisible, imaginary, virtual strawberry shortcake for the first person that's able to correctly guess the name of the song from Wicked and the two characters that sing it! **

**Hope you enjoyed, and happing reading! :) **

**PS: I know the chapter was supershort. Sorry!**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Forgive  
**Well, I hope you guys like this one! Thanks so much for the gushing reviews; I can't thank all of you enough! Imaginary strawberry shortcake for the couple people that got the song right; more Wicked references in this chapter, see if you can get the one besides the song! Imaginary wolfdogs for whoever can get that!**

** Well, I hope this clears things up for you guys. The story is NOT OVER. There is a poll I set up for how you want the plotline to go! Please vote! I hope you like one of them; if not, please PM me with your own idea and I might stick it in there!**

** Hope you love this chapter as much I adored writing it. I don't own Virals unfortunately! But I love writing fanfictions about it!**

I stared at Ben from my place in the center of the floor. I couldn't blink, couldn't speak, couldn't do anything but stand there while everyone's eyes found their way to my friend, leaning casually against the same banister where Jason had been a few hours earlier, his dark eyes holding only the faintest twinge of anger. Just… resignation. Like he'd known something all along and was only just being hit by the harshness of reality.

"Really, a great performance," he continued, voice cold and sarcastic. "Who wants an encore?" The crowd was silent. "Well?" he strode down the steps, slipping his phone from his pocket. He tilted it so we could see the screen; see the image of Jason and I, lips meeting in a kiss. The very sight made my heart contract with paralyzing guilt.

"Get away from her." Ben cocked an eyebrow at Jason's cool, calculated tone; at the genuine anger that contorted his handsome features. The tension might as well have a bomb, a land mine on a hair trigger, where one wrong step could detonate an explosion to devastate everybody – target and bystanders alike.

"Why should I?"

_Whoa._ Wrong thing to say; wrong time to say it.

"Because I _said so, _boat boy."

My breath snagged in my throat as Ben calmly flipped a pair of sunglasses down from where they perched on his forehead, obscuring his eyes. I tried to meet his gaze through the dark lenses; saw as he took a slightly deeper, sharper breath than necessary. Sensed the faintest of shudders that trailed down his body and the rawness of the power as his hands curled into fists. I could the flare as it roared through him like an inferno.

_IDIOT! IDIOT! IDIOT! _The word ran on an incessant loop in my mind and I fought to even out my breaths. Anxiety prickled over my skin, fear for Ben – not Jason. Every ounce of caring I had for Jason had gone flying out the window – _sayonara –_ the second Benjamin Blue came through those doors. Kind of.

If Jason hurt him, it was all my fault.

Ben eyed Jason – or did as best as he could with sunglasses on – and cupped a hand to his ear, leaning toward us. "I'm sorry, my hearing's not the greatest. Could you repeat that, Prince Charming?"

My dancing partner sucked in a breath. "You heard me."

"Don't worry, I won't tattle on you." To his credit, Ben earned a few chuckles from the crowd. "Come on, just say it again. What did you call me?"

Jason lunged forward until his face was only inches from Ben's, snarling through clenched teeth. "What are you gonna do about it, _boat boy?_"

I winced at the sharp thud as Ben's fist connected with Jason's left eye, sending the lacrosse star reeling backward – but not before his foot lashed out at his attacker, grazing Ben's shin and swiping the sophomore's leg out from under him. They both went sprawling and stopped, panting for a moment, before they clambered to their feet. Jason went on the offensive – taking a vicious swing at Ben's jaw – but he leaped gracefully aside, aided by his flare, and Jason fought to keep his balance as the momentum of the punch pitched him forward. Ben landed a kick behind his knee and the blond athlete faceplanted on the floor.

I could only stare as he peeled himself away from the granite, a thin trickle of blood dribbling from his nose. He swabbed it away with his sleeve and glowered at Ben as he stood, straightening his jacket, a scowl twisting his features. Ben turned to gaze out the window and Jason tried to jump him; but I knew better. Without even casting a glance in his attacker's direction, Ben ducked out of the way, letting Jason tumble the floor. But the jock rebounded easily and caught Ben with a slap across the cheek. He doubled over and Jason stood triumphantly a few feet away. Ben didn't realize what was happening; he was dazed, blinking behind the sunglasses. He turned – and so did I- to see Jason honing in for the kill.

_**SNAP.**_

The flare burst in my chest and spread like a wildfire. All in a split second, I trembled from the mental impact, recovered, took a breath, and flicked my canine-worthy gaze to the scene unfolding before me, golden fire undoubtedly blazing in my eyes. I looked frantically around for my sunglasses; but they were crammed into my purse, somewhere over by the stairwell. Fifty feet away. There wasn't time.

I covered the distance between me and in the boys in two easy bounds. I saw Ben's eyes widen in shock; caught a glimpse of Jason's fearful expression, and didn't even hesitate as I threw my entire weight against the jock's shoulder, crashing him sideways and away from Ben. He staggered and tumbled to the floor. Having regained my balance with ease, I stood over him, panting, liquid fire coursing through my veins. He rolled over with a groan and looked up at me.

His bright blue eyes stretched open to their limits, their cobalt depths flooded with a mixture of fright and awe.

_Oh no._

I looked up toward the doors, hoping to find relief in their smooth, reflective surface. Instead it brought horror.

My eyes flashed gold off the glass.

_No!_

"Tory..." Ben moved behind me, slipping a pair of us glasses discreetly into my hand. I looked up into his face. His beautiful brown-black irises had softened, just a bit, and the coldness in them had warmed ever so slightly; sympathy glowed among the churning emotions. _I'm sorry,_ I mouthed, hoping he saw the tears glistening in my eyes before I tucked the sunglasses onto my face. He looked pointedly away and I felt my heart shatter. Not forgiven.

_Would I ever be?_

**BEN's POV**

I tried to steady my breathing as I turned from the girl I'd fallen so hard for. She looked beautiful there, you know - so strong, so proud, her hair rippling behind her and licking the air like a brand of flame, her once-emerald eyes golden and tear-filled, sweat plastering her bangs to her forehead, her smooth, pale cheeks flushed with rosy color. Every fiber of me wanted to forgive her. Then I thought of the image of the two of them - Jason and Tory - standing so close, the moment of their kiss frozen still in my photo library. I took a shaky breath. The one emotion I'd felt in that second - and the couple minutes before - was pure, utter betrayal. Like I'd been played. I knew it was unfair for me to think of it that way - technically Tory and I had never been together, and she could kiss whoever she wanted to - but couldn't help but feel resentment, feel disappointment that we would never have a chance.

_Forgive her,_ a little voice in my subconscious whispered, _and maybe you will._

That word again. Forgive. Part of me said that it should be her needing to forgive me. Barging into the ballroom like that, humiliating her in front of practically the entire class, showing everyone the picture that would rip what social reputation she had right down the middle… Unforgivable.

I walked toward the exit, needing some time alone and a breath of fresh air. I broke into the evening coolness with what was practically a gasp of relief; the latest of the night birds twittered in the shadowy silhouettes that were the trees, and I could hear the water licking softly against the shore. The faint outline of _Sewee _bobbed gently in the swelling tide. It was high tonight; I'd have to be careful the runabout. I leaned cautiously against the bow as it steadily rose and fell, like the flank of a sleeping puppy. I swiped my hand across my face, trying to clear it of sweat, grime and… blood. A faint crimson stain oozed over my fingers as I pulled them away. I blotted the angry red welt on my cheek, trying to sop up the wetness, and wiped my hands clean on my shorts. I'd wash them later. No big deal.

The sea breeze was refreshingly cool against my face. I gazed out over the ocean; the moon had replaced the sun, hovering at its midnight summit and washing the club, the water, and the docks with soft, pearly light that glinted off the waves and cast shadows on the sidewalks. Stars winked around it; my trained eyes separated the constellations from the aimless jumble, piecing together Ursa Major, the Big Dipper, and, surprisingly, the lone, blazing pinpoint of Polaris, the northern star. That one was Tory's second favorite, I knew. Her first was easy to guess – Sirius, the brightest star in the night sky and also known as the "dog star," the most prominent of the markers for Canicus Major, the "big dog." No surprise there.

I scanned the sky for the blue-tinted binary star and was rewarded for my efforts. Hidden in a cluster near the head of Ursa Major was a glowing cobalt orb, more dazzling than any other star the eye could see. I reminded myself to point it out to Tory and immediately wanted to slap myself; we'd yet to speak to one another, let alone become friends again.

I couldn't leave without Tory – I wasn't that cruel. So I sat on the edge of the dock, shoes kicked off, swishing my feet restlessly in the water and thinking, wondering, as I blinked beneath the steady gaze of Sirius's unwavering light.

**TORY'S POV**

I shuffled out of the club. I'd found my purse, half the contents scattered across the smooth, waxy floor, surprisingly still with my sunglasses among them – despite the fact that a pair was resting over my eyes right that second, even though my flare had withered away long before. Ben had offered me his own pair to shield me from discovery –though if Jason had a good memory, our valiant efforts would be foiled anyway.

The wind was beginning to pick up as I pushed past the glass doors, now smudged with fingerprints. And lipstick – weird, and not to mention gross. A sweet breeze – smelling of the ocean – wreathed me in its human-like embrace and I let out a breath; let it drain me of my worries, my problems.

"Oh, _look, _Ash! It's the boat girl!"

Ugh. Looks like it hadn't gotten rid of _all _my issues. I turned, slowly, pivoting on my heel to face Madison. She looked breathtaking; her blond hair was pinned back in a loose, messy bun, artificially-highlighted tendrils framing her flawless tan face; pale pink eyeshadow was dusted over her lids, and a light, shimmery gloss was swiped over her already perfect lips. Concealer dotted any nonexistent blemishes and she didn't need bronzer to flaunt her soaring supermodel cheekbones. Surprisingly, I recognized her gown – hot pink with glittering gold accents, the dress yours truly had sported at my first cotillion event, nicknamed as the notorious "cupcake dress." But she wore it better than I ever could, and I was surprised that Jason had even gotten within twenty feet of me with a girl like Maddy crushing on him. That is, until she opened her snarky little mouth.

"Surprised you're not running back to the store, sweetie," she chirped. "Though I'm not sure _any _store would accept it as a return after _you've _worn it. It might be a hazard to the next customer."

I bit back a mile-long string of less than pleasant insults and opted for the more civilized approach. "Who said it needed to be returned?" Whitney. Oh well – a little white lie never hurt anybody. Right?

"That Dubois woman," Courtney said, sounding exhausted and a little more than sluggish. "You know, the one whose friend's boutique you're borrowing the dresses from." That might've been the most clever thing she'd said in her entire life. I held my applause.

But however impressed her choice of words made me, I was still busted with a capital B. "Not right away," I answered lamely. "Maybe I wanted to enjoy the time in my finery."

Madison snorted. "What finery?" And she lashed out, quicker than lighting, and tried to tear the belt away from the waistline. Thank the manufacturer – the stitches held – but the yank still jolted me forward, skidding across the bricks like a skipping stone.

She tried again from the back. This time, the belt buckle – cheap thing – broke at the front, and she flung it aside, grinding it into the dirt with the three-inch heel of her glossy pink platform shoe. If the belt had actually been holding up the dress, I'd have been toast.

Ashley bent to tear away a row of sequins from a silver accent and dropped them into my air, scrubbing them in like shampoo and sitting back to cackle with the rest of the Tripod. I forced a growl back down into my throat. Madison had seen my eyes once already; I couldn't risk her seeing them again. One sighting could be played off. A double-up… not so easy.

I got slowly to my feet, brushing what I could of the dirt off my dress, hoping the popped stitches at the waist weren't as conspicuous as my imagination had conjured up. I reached for the tattered belt and was slapped across the hand by Madison's perfectly manicured claws. "Excuse me," I said curtly, trying again. This time I narrowly avoided a crushing by her shoe, which I imagined would be pretty much like being stepped on my a horse (**A/N: Been there, done that. The horse part. PAINFUL!).**

"Aw, is the poor boat girl having some difficulty? Why don't you go call your little _boyfriend?_"

Who did she mean? Jason or Ben? Ugh! Nothing was worse than being caught between two guys – but I wasn't. Or was I? I was in the process of trying to shove the thoughts away and _focus _when a very familiar voice said calmly, "She doesn't need to call anyone."

Ben.

**BEN's POV (Sorry for the constant POV switch. Ping-pong, anyone?)**

I hadn't even decided to say the words before I heard them leaving my lips. I leaned casually against a tree with only the moonlight to illuminate my approach, alternating my steadily unnerving gaze between the three parts of the Tripod: Courtney, Ashley, and most of all, Madison, each one squirming visibly under my unwavering eyes. I smiled slightly and hoped Tory caught it. Forgive. I'd finally decided to give in and let loose with the new f-word.

"What are doing here, boat boy?" Madison's voice fell flat in its attempt at coolness.

"Depends on what you're doing." I looked at each of them in turn. "Because if you're harassing Tory, I'll be kicking your butt soon. But if you leave her alone, maybe we can skip that part."

"Your little threats don't scare us." Ashley, wavery and uncertain.

"No?" I took a menacing step forward, swinging one sandaled foot around the other and crossing my arms. I raised an eyebrow and felt the Tripod recede a little, their designer shoes skidding on the path.

"Nope." Madison again. She and Ashley were bouncing the responses between themselves; Courtney looked too freaked out to do much of anything.

"What if they became big threats?" I suggested. "Like, if you don't get your little snobby selves of here right now, I will make absolutely certain _your _dresses won't be in returnable condition?" I chuckled, tilting my head at the three girls, already starting to step back a little quicker. "I was thinking a roll in the sand to start off, then a nice long mud bath." I grinned. "I heard saltwater's fantastic for keeping the stains in."

"Come on, guys. Let's get away from his wacko." Madison turned tail and increased her pace, wobbling in her platform shoes. "Maybe _you _should be in that mental facility instead of Chance!" she tossed over her shoulder.

"You have a lovely night, too, ladies!" I waved cheerfully. "I hope your own beds in the mental facility are comfortable!"

They were out of sight too fast to throw back any sort of witty response. As soon as their silhouettes faded away into the shadows, I relaxed, letting out a long sigh of relief. "So glad that's over," I muttered.

"Me too." Tory was standing beside me now. She'd retrieved the belt and buckled it as best she could around her waist. Without thinking about it, I reached out and tugged it off, stuffing it into my pocket. She stared at me.

"I like it better that way," I joked. Awkward silence hung thick in the air; the air between us was practically buzzing with electricity, and we both just gazed into empty space, half-expecting sparks to fly at our closeness.

"When's your curfew?" I asked, breaking the quietness.

"It was about…" she whipped out her phone – the battery was almost dead, I noticed – and checked the time. "Forty five minutes ago."

"Well, you missed it by pretty far. No use rushing back."

"Well, what else do you suggest?" Her tone was mildly frustrated, but I could tell it wasn't directed at me.

I paused for a moment. "Let's go sit."

**TORY's POV (Seriously, we should start a game.)**

Ben led us over to the docks, where _Sewee _hung low in the water, rocking softly back and forth as the break waves poked and prodded at its sides. I nervously tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. Jason could get me with just a smile; but Ben was a different story. He was so unique – his mood could change in the blink of an eye, each one of his personalities more intriguing the last one – and more beautiful, more dazzling. When he was angry, if you were smart you weren't in his way. But when he was happy, he was perfect company – laughing, grinning, a fantastic listener, a guy who was like the other half of my split personality. He was handsome – even more so when he smiled. His skin was bronzed by summer days out on _Sewee; _his eyes, deep and rich like dark chocolate, were mysterious, and seemed to have no end – just like the ocean. He was strong; intelligent. And both our DNAs were mangled – manipulated, enhanced, improved, if you will – by the canine parvovirus that we caught together.

Together.

He sat beside me and dangled his feet in the water.

"Go on," he said, nodding at my flats. "Take 'em off and put 'em in. It feels great."

So I flung my shoes into the grass and let my toes plop into the water, wiggling them, savoring the coolness of the saltwater swirling over my skin. I carefully tucked my skirt so it didn't brush the water and braced myself against my arms, leaning back and letting out a long breath.

"Tired?" he asked, gentle.

"I guess. Just… fed up."

He opened his mouth, closed it, and reopened it. "With… me?"

I laughed, splashing up the water with my toes and managing to shower him with it, droplets dappling his shorts and dark shirt, hitting his skin and rolling off. "Of course not. Why would I be fed up with you?"

He stared at his bare feet, ashamed. "You know. Running into the club like that. Yelling at you." He blushed an even darker shade of scarlet. "Taking the picture."

I directed my own gaze at my toes. "How long were you standing there? Before you spoke up," I added.

"Five minutes, maybe." He smiled – a real, genuine smile, one that slowly spread across his face and lit up all his features, not just his mouth. It reached up to his eyes and they took on a new shine. "You're a great singer."

I swatted his shoulder. "Oh, stop it. I'm _tone-deaf, _for goodness sakes!"

"Not for those five minutes you weren't." He lifted his own voice and sang out a few notes over the waves, who didn't bother stopping to listen. "Dancing through life, skimming the surface, gliding where turf is smooth…" his voice was a low, smooth bass, and the easy tenors drifted out over the ocean.

"Wow," I said with a giggle. "And I thought _I _was the only one who'd seen that musical."

"Nope," he said, smiling again. "What's your favorite song from it?"

I blushed, looking down again. "Sorry. Top secret."

"Oh, come on!"

"Nope." I looked up again, surprised to see a dark rivulet making its way down his cheek. "Ben, you're bleeding. Didn't Jason slap you?"

He gazed into my eyes, and I reached out to brush the blood away. "Yeah. Or maybe he slapped me or something." And then he was reaching out himself, his own hand cupping my cheek as he leaned and he kissed me. It was different than it was with Jason's. My kiss with him had been so brief – thank goodness, I realized now – and I'd felt nothing except for his lips on mine. Nothing; no flutter in the pit of my stomach, no skipped beats in my heart. Now, with Ben, I felt everything I hadn't. His lips were warm on mine; my pulse skittered like the feet of a sandpiper across the beach, my stomach flip-flopped, my brain seemed to go all fuzzy and I couldn't see anything as I closed my eyes and just sat there.

When we finally broke apart, I was grinning stupidly at him and said something very intelligent like "It's Friday, right?"

He smiled at me and nodded, his hand never leaving my cheek, his other one finding mine. Then his grin took on a mischievous quality. "Actually, it's past midnight, so it's Saturday now I guess."

I laughed. "You _really _want to know my favorite song from Wicked?"

He nodded vigorously, so hard I worried his head would fall off. "Okay, okay," I said. "Don't give yourself whiplash." I began to sing softly, my tone-deafness forgotten for just five more minutes. "Kiss me too fiercely, hold me too tight…" Ben's face registered a brief moment of surprise before it softened into a smile, drawing me closer as I sang. "I need help believing… you're with me, tonight…" I paused for breath. "My wildest dreamings, could not foresee…" And I kept singing, kept going, until Elphaba's part was supposed to transition into Fiyero's. I stopped and felt a tear of joy slide down my cheek as Ben took up the song.

"Maybe I'm brainless, maybe I'm wise," he sang, his voice resonating sweetly in my ears. "But you've got me seeing, through different eyes…" I blinked, realizing how the words rang true. "Somehow I've fallen, under your spell…" he smiled as he sang. "And somehow I'm feeling, it's up that I fell…"

"And just for this moment," I sang, "As long as you're mine…"

"I've lost all resistance, and crossed some borderline!"

Our voices joined in a duet. "And if it turns out, it's over too fast… I'll make, every last moment, last! Say there's no future…" we paused, breathless, gazing at each other. "…for us as a pair…"

We broke forward, louder than ever before. "I know, I may know, I don't care!"

And in that moment, I knew exactly who I was – and knew exactly who I wanted to be with. Who I wanted to be by my side no matter what crazy adventures found us. And he was right there with me as we sang out the very last line of my favorite song.

"_As long as you're mine!"_


End file.
